Until It Sleeps
by Xris Robbins
Summary: {Slash} Fourth in my lyric arc. Dark Duncan is back and his only hope for salvation is in the hands of the man he's been hunting.


Alex, my best beta-er in the entire world. . . I'm partially   
dedicating this to you. Thank you for being so supportive and one   
of the nicest human beings (am I assuming too much? JK) that I've   
ever encountered.  
  
Disclaimer: When they're mine, you WILL know as I will not stop   
bragging about it.  
  
Follows Coming Back To Life as the fourth in my lyric arc. See   
the others for any other possible notes.  
  
Until It Sleeps   
Christy Xris Robbins   
  
It had happened again.   
  
The swish of his sword. The splattering of blood and subsequent   
darkness rising to overwhelm his soul. It was the way of things. He   
had felt it before and knew that it would be to no avail should he   
try to fight this - the Dark Quickening.   
  
Who had he killed? The man's name... he searched for it among the   
crashing chaos of his thoughts. Screaming, he found it as the pain   
found every part of his body and began to slowly eat him from the   
inside out. Patrick. Patrick O'Carrel. He had not been a good   
person. He had been the kind of person that abused his   
immortality. He'd done so for almost six hundred years. Yet it   
wasn't necessarily his Quickening that threw Duncan into his evil   
seeming. It was Kronos. Caspian. The pain of Methos'   
disappearance. Everything negative that had happened since   
coming from that Spring was suddenly there and present and   
Duncan was thrown into madness.   
  
A madness that remained when he awoke.   
  
Smiling, Duncan stood from the ground he had collapsed on. The   
man's head sat a few feet away and Duncan smiled at it in gratitude   
as he made his way across the warehouse to the door. He had not   
been a hard fight, but he had done Duncan the greatest service   
since he'd had the first Dark Quickening. He was in POWER   
again. More so than the puny offerings Coltec had given him.   
Whereas Coltec had contained - maybe - nine hundred years of evil   
within him, Kronos and Caspian had handed him over six   
thousand. He was in control. He was indestructible. He was all-  
powerful.   
  
He was going out Hunting. For all his power, there was still more   
to be had.   
  
The Oldest of them all.   
  
Methos.   
  
~   
  
Joe looked up as the door to his bar swung open. The chilly   
November breeze blew in and he felt a quick stab of pain in his leg   
as it touched him. Then the door was closed and he was left staring   
at a single snow-blown figure. One had hadn't seen in over half a   
year.   
  
"Adam," he said in greeting. He hobbled out from behind the bar   
and crossed the room, giving his friend a quick hug. "It's good to   
see you again."   
  
"Likewise, my friend," Methos said. He stepped back and looked   
into Joe's eyes. "How bad is it?" The four words brought Joe back   
to reality and he remembered the reason his friend had returned.   
  
"It happened about three weeks back," Joe said. "I didn't even   
know about it until..." He trailed off and began to make his way   
back around the counter. Adam followed.   
  
"Until what, Joe?" he demanded. "What did he do?"   
  
"He went after Cassandra." Methos froze in spot. "Took her head   
last week. I wrote you right after." Methos stood a moment in   
shock before taking a shaky step back, leaning against a nearby   
wall. Cassandra was dead? The last hold he had on his elusive   
past?   
  
"What else?" Methos asked. Joe looked at him, confused. "There   
has to be more. If MacLeod's dark side has taken over again there   
has to be another element about Cassandra's death that you're not   
telling me."   
  
"There's nothing," Joe stated. Methos scowled. "He went to   
Chicago and caught her unaware. Took her head in some alley.   
The Watchers that cleaned it didn't find anything else." Methos   
growled in frustration. What was he up to? MacLeod had to have   
left *something.* The majority of Watchers were careless when it   
came to crime scenes. They knew nothing about looking for the   
subtle clues that Methos had a trained eye for.   
  
Could he risk going to Chicago to look?   
  
"Where is he now?" he asked. Joe frowned.   
  
"I don't know. One of my men followed him as far as New York   
and then lost him."   
  
"Could he... no, he wouldn't go after Connor."   
  
"It's evil Duncan we're playing with, Adam, who knows what he's   
capable of." Methos frowned. "I'm going."   
  
"Adam..." Joe began. The Immortal turned. "He's got Kronos and   
Caspian in him. Remember that, all right?"   
  
"Trust me, Joe," Methos said quietly, "I will never, *ever* forget."   
  
~   
  
MacLeod waited. He had been waiting for over a week. Watching   
from his perch in the rancid Chicago hotel room across from where   
he had killed Cassandra, he saw the Watcher's move her body and   
the passing of people day in and day out. They were non-issues.   
Trivial, really. He wanted Methos. He was willing to wait.   
  
He was not disappointed.   
  
He was sitting on the balcony sipping a classy Chardonnay when   
he finally spotted the Old Man. He wanted to pounce right away,   
but instead watched as Methos walked into the alley and stood   
from his seat. Glancing at the sky, he reflected on some sort of   
perverse satisfaction that it was nearing twilight and smiled a feral   
grin. Slowly making his way down the hall, he caught the elevator   
to the lobby and walked out, crossing the street in front of several   
moving cars. The part inside of him that had gotten control of   
Kronos' Quickening screamed with every step, shouting ideas at   
Duncan as to what should be done with Methos.   
  
He ignored all of them.   
  
Stepping into the mouth of the alley, he smiled in satisfaction as   
Methos started, jumping as Duncan's shadow fell over him. The   
other man paled a bit and he swallowed what Duncan decided was   
fear.   
  
"Duncan-" he began. Duncan waved a hand and cut him off.   
  
"Silence." The weight of his words closed Methos' mouth. Methos   
stared at him, afraid. The alley was a dead-end and night was   
falling. "I've been waiting for you, Old Man."   
  
"Mac, please, listen to me. This isn't you. We can go to the   
Spring..." He silence himself slowly as Mac raised a finger to his   
lips and hushed him.   
  
"You're weak, Methos," he said in a quiet voice. "And this time   
there's no Sean Burns inside me to win me over."   
  
"You're wrong, MacLeod," Methos stated. "Sean *is* inside you.   
He's still in there. As is Coltec. Darius. A score of people that   
shouldn't have died that did and added to who you were in doing   
so." Duncan frowned. "You know it's true, Mac. And NONE of   
them would have wanted this." MacLeod drew closer to him. So   
close that they were almost touching. Reaching out, MacLeod   
stroked his cheek.   
  
"I missed you, Methos," he whispered. Methos seemed confused as   
to whether he should melt into the touch or run from it. "I want   
you." The man's eyes widened. MacLeod smiled. "And I'm going   
to take you." Faster than either could blink, MacLeod's sword was   
in his hand and he slammed it into Methos' jaw. Dropping to the   
ground, the older immortal grabbed at his mouth, gasping as blood   
spilled over his lips. MacLeod stepped forward quickly and took   
the hilt of his sword, slamming it into Methos' back. The strength   
behind the blow dropped him. Methos slumped to the ground with   
a hiss of air. Smiling, MacLeod picked him up.   
  
Now it was time for some fun.   
  
~   
  
He awoke with a throbbing headache, which was not at all   
surprising, considering the circumstances behind his erstwhile nap.   
He was awake only moments before realizing that he was chained.   
Opening his eyes, he looked at the situation. Cuffs and chains kept   
his hands tied tightly to a queen-sized bed. It was so cliche that it   
was frightening and the old immortal briefly wondered how he had   
let this happened.   
  
"Uncomfortable?" Methos looked up at the sound of the voice and   
his eyes widened. Duncan - or Dark Duncan - stood nearby, a dark   
frown on his face. He was dressed in the black, leather garb of any   
good dominatrix and looked at Methos with dark eyes. "Tell me   
you're not feeling too terrible."   
  
"I..." Methos began. He paused. "Why are you doing this,   
Duncan?"   
  
"Because I want the power you have," Duncan stated. He looked   
Methos over and the old man was suddenly very aware of the lust   
behind his friend's eyes. "I want you."   
  
"Look, Mac," he began. "This isn't the way to go about this."   
MacLeod chuckled.   
  
"Isn't it?" he demanded. "You left when I tried it the other way."   
  
"I didn't mean to leave," Methos said. "It just happened. I am who I   
am, Duncan. I had to run. I had no other choice."   
  
"And I have no other choice now."   
  
"Yes you do!" Methos protested. "You could come with me to the   
Spring again, leave all this behind."   
  
"No, I don't think I could," Duncan stated. "I went there once and   
the better side of my conscience was in control for a while. But he   
lost it again. I can't let anyone that weak be in control."   
  
"That wasn't weakness, MacLeod!" Methos stated. "This," he   
rattled the chains at his wrists, "is weakness. You're just taking   
what you want without trying to work for it or earn it in any   
respect. THAT is weakness."   
  
"Then who is the weaker of the two of us, Methos?" he demanded.   
"You took what you wanted without earning it for... what? Two,   
three thousand years? You were just as weak as I am, Methos, and   
you didn't need any Spring to cure you then."   
  
"No," Methos agreed. "I had a guide to show me through. She - her   
tenderness and love even though I was a harsh master - pulled me   
out of the darkness. Once she disappeared into the night, so did   
whatever part of me desired what my brothers did. I left them soon   
after."   
  
"So be that guide for me." Duncan crossed the room, knelt next to   
the bed. "Or I will MAKE you." He was suddenly on the bed, his   
mouth on Methos' in a rough claim of control. Methos remained   
passive, letting the other man's tongue search his mouth for   
whatever it was looking for. Duncan backed away just as suddenly,   
staring at Methos in revulsion and hate. "You won't even let me   
have that, will you?" The quick backhand caught Methos square in   
the jaw, and the man winced as the chains dug into his wrists as his   
body drew back. "Why? Methos?" Duncan screamed. "Why can't   
you help me out of this darkness?"   
  
"You don't want to leave it," Methos stated. Duncan paused,   
staring at him. "Kronos is deep inside you, and he likes being in   
control. He likes thinking of me in a submissive position and wants   
you to keep me that way. Caspian is in there too. He wants to hurt   
me. There are others who just want your dark side to be in charge   
forever just so you can do what they have done. Your own   
Quickening and Personality is being overwhelmed by peer pressure   
and it's hard for the real you to break free and come back to the   
surface. So no matter what I do or try, it will be in vain. *You* -   
the real you - can't find his way out, and so the darker side has got   
all the   
power."   
  
"Why should I believe this?" Duncan demanded. "Maybe I'm in   
control because the other me is just too weak to break out!"   
  
"Or maybe not. But you don't want to find out, do you?" Methos   
demanded.   
  
"No," Duncan said, "I don't. I want to keep you here. I want to fuck   
you. I want you to be my slave."   
  
"Body and soul?" Methos demanded. "You can have one or the   
other. Just like there is the dark you and the light you." Duncan   
scowled. Turning, he disappeared from the bedroom, slamming the   
door behind him.   
  
Methos sighed.   
  
The Waiting Game had begun.   
  
~   
  
He heard him come into the room. Heard the door open and close   
behind him. MacLeod said nothing, only came to kneel beside the   
bed. Methos continued his pretense of sleep, waiting until   
Duncan's breathing steadied before even daring to move. When,   
finally, he was sure that Mac had fallen asleep, he opened his eyes   
and began to speak.   
  
Now was his chance.   
  
"You're walking through a long, dark hallway. You don't know   
where you are going, all you know is that you've walked through   
here before. Turning a corner, a familiar face jumps out at you. His   
greasy black hair falls over his eyes, the oil of his skin soaking it -   
attaching it to his face. Caspian. You have his Quickening. You've   
seen the perversions he has committed over the years. You know   
why 'Caspari' had to be kept in a cell in Romania. He is unfit to   
live. Your katana jumps into your hand and you stab his way. He   
dodges, striking at you with the palm of his hand. The slap is   
personal, as if he is demeaning an old lover. It makes you feel dirty   
and sick. This time your attack is more powerful and you feel it   
stab into his gut. With a howl he drops to the ground and   
disappears. You look up as a faint light at the end of this long   
tunnel appears. Praying that you can find your way, you leave   
Caspian's body behind and start towards it once more.   
  
"You walk for only a little while before another, slimmer shadow   
appears. This shadow you know intimately. Ingrid is before you,   
the same pleading look in her eye. She stares at you a moment,   
memorizing your face. 'I understand why you did what you did,   
Duncan,' she assures you. 'I really do.' Turning, she allows you to   
pass without a word. Behind your back, you   
hear her quietly whisper a few words of luck and you continue.   
The light before you has grown brighter and it is calling you home.  
  
"The next encounter is more violent. You are suddenly thrown to   
the ground as a shadowy figure rises from the darkness. A jagged   
scar runs down his cheek and he sends a shiver to fear through   
your back. Kronos - the would-be 'End of Time.' That title no   
longer matters. All that matters is   
that he is here and you must stop him.  
  
"Drawing your sword, you slice at him, but he dodges the blow.   
Again and again you come at him, but he is eternally out of your   
reach. Finally growling in frustration, you swing wildly, praying to   
connect with something - anything. He dodges every blow, finally   
coming up with his fist. Catching your jaw in a viscous uppercut,   
he throws you back. You barely manage to keep your footing as he   
throws himself at you. The sudden movement makes you throw   
your sword up in defense and you catch his head as he soars   
toward you. Will a soft thud, head and body both land on the   
ground and you are once again standing alone. The light, though.   
The light has gotten brighter. Bright enough to see the hall clearly.   
It is covered with pictures. Of you. Of your friends and the life you   
have lived. All of them were darkened at first, but now you see   
them. You, Tessa and Richie smile out from a dozen frames. Joe   
from yet more. Little Dear. Coltec. Ingrid. Amanda. Debra. Yet   
more people who you have come to care about. Everyone who you   
have ever loved is suddenly illuminated by that light that now   
shines clearly. You feel at peace, as if you are suddenly home.   
  
"Then you see him. He who is you. If you are the light, he is the   
darkness and he has come here to destroy these images - these   
people that you love. He stares at you with your own eyes and   
smiles wickedly. 'Do you think you can beat me?' he demands.   
'You, who are so weak?' Deep   
inside, you wonder if he doesn't have a point. Can you beat him?   
Are you strong enough? Sword - your father's sword - clasped in   
hand, you rise to the challenge. If you have ever been ready for a   
fight in your life, now is the time. You will destroy this monster   
that wears your skin. Send him   
back to whatever cesspool he has come from. He is not you. You   
hold the sword of the Clan MacLeod. YOU will be triumphant.   
  
"Your swings are the same. You both fight with the styles of old.   
You know his moves. You have learned his style and deflect it   
easily with your own. You two fight for what seems like hours.   
Slicing, cutting, stabbing with all your heart for you know your   
soul is on the line. Finally - with desperation behind his move - he   
throws all his force behind a blow aimed your way. Sidestepping,   
you narrowly avoid the strike and rise up, bringing your own   
sword down in a sharp slice. Splitting molecules, your blade tears   
into his flesh and within seconds his head is on the ground.   
  
"There is no Quickening, but the light which you'd had but a   
glimpse of before is now bright enough to overwhelm you. You   
can see clearly. He is gone and once again you are in control."   
  
~   
  
Methos waited.   
  
As the voice of the narrator, he had watched the Highlander fight   
with himself for the better part of the night, but now the man was   
at peace. He'd defeated his mental foe and Methos had no doubt   
that Duncan would be back to his normal, broody self come   
morning.   
  
Did he want that? Could he accept the Highlander returning to the   
man who had betrayed and abandoned Methos when another man -   
a man who accepted and understood Methos' past action -   
inhabited his body? Methos and Dark Duncan... they could have   
everything. The world. Each other...   
  
No.   
  
Methos wanted Duncan for so much more than his body. He   
*loved* Duncan. But the man who had taken residence in   
Duncan's body was not the Highlander... just a twisted shadow. He   
was not the man Methos loved and therefore Methos could never   
bring himself to touch him.   
  
Slowly, the world's oldest immortal twisted his wrists and   
dislocated his thumbs. Pulling a hand out of the handcuffs around   
his wrists, he reached down and pulled Duncan up off the floor and   
onto the bed. Holding him like a parent would hold a scared child,   
he whispered soft words to Duncan in a hundred lost languages, all   
meaning the same thing: I love you. You're safe. He's gone. I'll be   
here in the morning.   
  
He would. Not to make sure that Dark Duncan was gone for good,   
but to ensure that Duncan would be all right when he awoke. To   
make sure that he didn't try anything stupid.   
  
To make sure he didn't find his own rooftop.   
  
~Finis/TBC   
  
  
Artist: Metallica   
Album: Load   
Title: Until It Sleeps   
  
  
Where do I take this pain of mine   
I run but it stays right by my side   
So tear me open, pour me out   
These things inside they scream and shout   
And the pain still hates me   
So hold me until it sleeps   
Just like a curse, just like a stray   
You feed it once and now it stays   
Now it stays   
So tear me open, but beware   
There's things inside without a care   
And the dirt still stains me   
So wash me until I'm clean   
It grips you so hold me   
It stains you so hold me   
It hates you so hold me   
It holds you so hold me   
Until it sleeps...   
So tell me why you've chosen me   
Don't want your grip   
Don't want your greed   
Don't want it   
I'll Tear me open, make you gone   
No more can you hurt anyone   
And the fear still shakes me   
So hold me until it sleeps   
I don't want it.....NO   
It grips you so hold me   
It stains you so hold me   
It hates you so hold me   
It holds you, holds you, holds you   
Until it sleeps...   
So tear me open, but beware   
The pain's inside without a care   
And the dirt still stains me   
So wash me til I'm clean   
I'll Tear me open, make you gone   
No longer will you hurt anyone   
And the hate still shakes me   
So hold me until it sleeps   
Until it sleeps   
Until it sleeps   
Until it sleeps   
  
  
  



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